Madame de Pond
by theoncomingbadwolf
Summary: Uhm, my first fanfiction. Kinda lemony, but not really all that lemony. Sorry if it's awful. Guest (Isabell): I can't reply to you, so I'm just saying: telepathic paper was my own invention so Amy and the Doctor could communicate. I didn't know about Reinette - I wrote this without watching back though the episode first. Sorry for confusion and stuffs - I do still watch DW:)


Amy Pond was sat on the floor of the TARDIS tucking into a jam sandwich when it hit her. Not a sudden realisation that she desperately needed to go to the toilet, although that was an important issue; no, what hit her was a book, a book of telepathic paper. Whilst the Doctor had been away on important business that he refused to share the details of with his red-haired companion, the telepathic paper was how the two had been keeping in touch. The Doctor's latest message read: "I can already tell that all you've done since I've gone is sit around and make my floor sticky with jam sandwich residue. Go and have some fun, Amelia!"

Amy looked down at the block letters and sighed. The Doctor had set the TARDIS in autopilot before he'd set off, so that if she wanted to go anywhere all she had to do was punch in a date and pull a lever... which lever was that, again? The thing was, though, Amy didn't know where she wanted to go. The Doctor had given her a multitude of dates and occasions that she should visit, but it wouldn't be half as fun without the Doctor there as her clueless tour guide.

"I guess I can't stay cooped up in here forever," Amy muttered to herself, thinking of a reply to the Doctor and throwing the book over to the other side of the TARDIS. She began scrolling through the list of places that the Doctor had suggested to her, running her finger down the paper until she landed on the line reading "27th February 1752 – Madame de Pompadour". Amy distinctly remembered a conversation between herself and the Doctor where he had told her about his... adventures with the French mistress. "Come along Pond," she grinned, "let's take a trip to see Miss Poisson!"

Jeanne Antoinette Poisson was perched on a chair in her bedroom silently reading a book, when a sudden noise faded in, getting louder and louder until it became deafening. She looked around the room to try and discover the source and to her amazement came across a large blue box that seemed to become clearer every second. Suddenly, the whirring stopped and the box became stationary.

"Hello...?" Jeanne whispered, her voice shaking a little. The door of the box opened and a pretty woman with long, brilliantly red curls stepped out.

"Oh, hello! You must be Jeanne!" the girl beamed, holding out a hand.

"Who are you?" Jeanne replied. "Are you another from the place where my fallen angel lives?"

Amy paused for a second. "Fallen angel...?" she murmured. "Oh! You must mean the Doctor, right? Floppy hair, likes his bow ties, bit strange?"

"No, that's not who I mean at all." Jeanne looked confused. "My angel is perfect. He has magnificent, spiked hair and wears a brown suit. He comes and visits me through this fireplace," she gestured.

"Ah, well, um... you know, I think we are thinking of the same person. He just looks a bit different for me."  
>"You mean this man never ages <em>and <em>can change his face?"

"Yeah, I guess he does."

Jeanne let that settle in for a minute, annoyed at this man's seeming immortality, but then brought her attention back to Amy. "Your accent sounds different; you're _not_ from round here, _are_ you?"

"No, no, you're right." Amy replied. "I'm a traveller, like the Doctor, and I just thought I'd come and pay you a visit. Good choice I made too – you're quite the looker!"

Jeanne blushed slightly. "Madame, I am a mistress of the King. I am not to be tempted by anyone, especially not female strangers."

"Ah, but Miss Pompadour, we aren't strangers. Well, you're not to me. I've heard all about you." Amy stepped closer. "Yes, the Doctor talks very fondly of you," she giggled, winking. Jeanne's blush grew to a shade of red that matched the drapes hanging in front of the windows.

"Miss, you're behaving very inappropriately," Miss Poisson began, but Amy reached out and put a finger to her lips.

"It's Amelia, Madame. Amelia Pond. But you can call me Amy."

Jeanne tried to side step out of Amy's reach but was pulled back in by hands that slunk round the mistress' waist.

"Miss, Amy, Amelia!" she shouted!

"I'm not even doing anything yet, Jeanne. God, what are you going to be like when we get down to business?"

"Get... get down to business?" Jeanne stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean!" Amy laughed, pushing her face against the scared-looking woman. She began to kiss her, slowly at first, but then with a passion and urgency that took the mistress by surprise – surprise at the force in the girl's actions but also in her own pleasure of the experience and desire for it to continue, like fear and delight all at once. It wasn't right for a female to be pleasured by another female and was definitely not right for one of the female's partaking to be the King's mistress, but she couldn't help like feeling it was exceptional, the way their tongues fought against each other in a heroic battle and how good it felt to have hands at the base of her back... that were beginning to move lower. Miss Poisson let out a soft moan as the hands found her rear end and began to massage it. Amy broke away.

"See, I knew you'd like it eventually," she whispered seductively, raising an eyebrow before walking around to the back of Madame de Pompadour and undoing her corset bit by bit with her teeth. As the tight material stopped holding her body in an iron grip, the mistress gave a sigh of relief that soon turned into a sharp intake of breath as Amy dragged a finger down her back. She began to tremble a little as the red-headed girl dropped to the floor and snaked a hand up her leg, under the wiring of her skirt and just below the bottom half of her underwear, only to slide it back down again, taking care that she caressed every inch of the woman's thigh and below.

"Amy," spoke Miss Poisson, her voice catching.

"What is it, dear?" drawled Amelia, rising to her full height.

"I...I,"

"You what?"

Madame de Pompadour closed her eyes and held Amy's face.

"Oh... I know what you want!" The look in Amy's eyes was so inviting and arousing that the mistress couldn't contain herself and leaned forward, locking herself in a passionate kiss with the girl whilst her hands tore off her bright red jumper. Amy worked on Miss Poisson's skirt, pulling it down carelessly, eager to see more of the mistress's flesh. They were pushing their bodies into one another, both greedy to feel each crevice and curve of either's bodies, wanting, _needing_ more and more until Amy tore off her own jeans and grabbed Madame de Pompadour around the waist. She took her over to the fire place and held her against it.

"'The Girl in the Fireplace' the Doctor called you," murmured Amy between kisses. "How would you like to become 'The Girl _Against _the Fireplace'?" And with that she let her hands slide down and clutch onto the mistress's chest, whilst her lips moved over her stomach, causing Miss Poisson so much pleasure her knees began to grow weak. Amy dragged her lips lower and lower until they could feel the moisture seeping through Madame de Pompadour's undergarments and finally pulled away.

"Wha-?" the mistress half-heartedly cried.

"Sorry, I've got to get back to the TARDIS," crooned Amy. She bounded away over to her clothes, scooping them up, and then walked over to the blue box and opened it. She stepped inside before turning around to wink at Miss Poisson and say, "Until next time." There was a whirring and the box finally faded away, leaving no remainder of Miss Pond but a few strands of red hair draped on her bare skin.

Back on the TARDIS, Amy smiled to herself as she eased back into her clothes.

"How's your day been?" came a message on the book.

"Rather interesting... I went to France and had me some fish," she thought, giggling at her own subtle hints about what she'd actually done that day. Sighing, she lay back on the console and daydreamed about where and what she could do next; maybe she would give Jabe from the Forest of Cheem a visit...


End file.
